


Nice Things

by allofthepixels



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nervous Alec, Second Kiss, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthepixels/pseuds/allofthepixels
Summary: Alec thinks about Magnus and how he’s always so warm and nice and pretty and free — and that hand on his leg was also so perfect. Alec was never one to let himself have things that are warm and nice and pretty. Not before Magnus, at least. He thinks about how they fit together on this stupid couch like the final two puzzle pieces that wedge together perfectly, how their hands used to fumble into these comforting patterns and now it all feels second-nature and easy as breathing.





	

“One more for the road?”

Alec tried to hear Magnus through the pounding of his own heart in his ears. That couldn’t be normal, could it? And he wondered if his face was red. His whole body felt red. Could Magnus tell? God, he hoped Magnus couldn’t tell. Magnus had been nothing short of obvious about his intentions and his feelings — but he’s also been so patient and Alec just wanted to tell him and show him somehow how much it’s all meant…

“Alexander?”

“Huh?”

“Or, maybe not for the road,” the warlock smiled at the afterthought, his eyes devious but oh-so-warm and inviting under that thick liner. Alec swallowed. “Was that last one too strong? You know I’d never quarrel with you staying the night.”

Alec had never been a drinker — still wasn’t — and while that mixed drink Magnus handed him (whatever the hell it was) wasn’t anything strong, he still felt the comfortable giddiness of being drunk. He swayed back against the arm of the absurdly short couch (”It’s a love-seat, Alexander,” he’d been told too many times with a punctuating wink) and offered Magnus a weak smile.

It wasn’t the first night the two of them had met for drinks and ended up talking into the wee hours of the night about nothing and everything as their hands (and, yes, later, their bodies) inched closer. But tonight something was different and the thought of walking home made something in him ache. 

“It’s fine,” he promised, meditating on the idea of staying and how good it would feel. “Just thinking.”

“You do that too often and too intensely for someone so young,” Magnus clicked his tongue and eased himself under Alec’s extended legs, patting a knee soothingly. “Care to share the load?”

He thinks about Magnus and how he’s always so warm and nice and pretty and free — and that hand on his leg was also so perfect. Alec was never one to let himself have things that are warm and nice and pretty. Not before Magnus, at least. He thinks about how they fit together on this stupid couch like the final two puzzle pieces that wedge together perfectly, how their hands used to fumble into these comforting patterns and now it all feels second-nature and easy as breathing. He thinks about how things always felt simpler once he crossed the Brooklyn bridge and made his way here. How even though Magnus redecorated every other week, the place never stopped feeling familiar. He thinks about how there’s just one thing he hasn’t… 

“I’m just thinking that these nights have been really good for me. Really good,” he sighed, biting his lip. “Being your friend has been really good for me.” 

“Of course, I feel the same way. You, Alexander, are by far the brightest part of this dreary millennium,” Magnus smiled softly, trying like he always did to commit the shades of blue in Alec’s eyes to memory. “But, call it warlock’s intuition, I don’t think that’s all you’ve been thinking about?”

Magnus had learned to read Alec’s body pretty early on (slack-jawed staring will offer you that advantage): The way he shyly ducked his head when he was nervous or embarrassed, the ways he avoided eye contact one moment or held it just right in another, the way his shoulders tensed during difficult conversations, the way his pale skin turned the most perfect shade of red. He was four for four at the moment: eyes shifting to the frayed edge of his sweater sleeve and his head and shoulders hunched protectively over blushing cheeks. 

“And you called me ‘cryptic,’” Magnus teased, his fingers squeezing just above his knee for emphasis.

It didn’t take a warlock’s intuition to notice the poorly hidden snort and those panic-stricken blue eyes that met his own. 

“And what was that?“ Magnus arched an eyebrow, something predatory and beautiful and strangely feline taking over his face that made Alec’s stomach flutter. “Is there something Alexander needs to share with the class?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he laughed uneasily, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck in a far-too-desperate attempt to seem casual as he tried to remove his legs from Magnus’ lap. A hand tightened at his ankle. “C’mon.”

Magnus held eye contact with Alec as his hand wandered smoothly down his ankle and to his worn old socks, a finger playing tauntingly slow at the hole by his left heel. Alec didn’t know if the Warlock was using some sort of magic or if he was just pinning him there with his gaze alone. 

“No idea, huh? None at at all?” 

That finger played with the skin through that hole and Alec grit his teeth. He’d been tickled by Jace and Izzy growing up, obviously. Prior to Jace’s growth spurt, it was the only way they could manage to beat him in a fight and “put a smile on that scowly face of his.” But it’d never felt so weird and intimate and — he could feel his face turning redder as the thought came to him — so hot.

“You’re thinking awfully loud again,” Fingers teased up his foot and Alec choked back the urge to giggle (Shadowhunters don’t fucking giggle). He squirmed in his seat just the same as Magnus’ thumb slid up under the sock and his nail started sketching lazy patterns into his skin. 

“M-Magnus,” he tried to train his voice into something threatening, but couldn’t decide if he actually wanted it to stop and that just made him blush harder along with the nervous anticipation.

“Why don’t you tell me what you were going to say?” 

“I-I — Ah! — I wasn’t,” he jumped when fingers shot up and wiggled at the softest part of his arch before resuming the devastatingly slow patterns at his heel. “I just…”

“Ooh, that was a fun sound. Can we do it again?” Magnus grinned, his other hand squeezing Alec’s thigh again for emphasis and earning a smattering of giggles. “I can do this all night. You’re always cute but, forgive me, I think you’re cutest like this.”

“C’mon, Magnus,” Alec covered his face, trying to keep his breathing even. “Stop. And m’not cute.”

For someone who generally preferred to travel via portal, Magnus was fast. Before Alec could roll away, he’d launched himself from his spot under his legs to straddle his hips. 

“Need I remind you that I’ve watched you mortals for centuries. Empires rise and fall, wars begin and end and years pass in what feels like seconds,” he leaned close to Alec’s face as his fingers slid deviously down his torso, mapping out all sorts of sensitive spots that he prayed to Lilith he’d get to explore later (ideally sans clothes.) “I’ve seen more than you could ever imagine. So I know cute. “ 

He squeezed the softest (but not soft at all) part of Alec’s sides, reveling in the bright sounds of his laughter breaking free from the tough exterior. And it was so, so beautiful. 

Meanwhile, Alec was having a bit of trouble deciding whether he should prioritize (uselessly) batting at those tickling hands or trying to keep his face hidden in his arms (because why wasn’t he using every ounce of his strength to get away). But when he finally met Magnus’ eyes he decided there was only one thing he could do.

“You are the definition, no, the platonic ideal of cute and adorable and beau–” 

He craned his neck the few inches he needed and pressed his lips into Magnus’, fingers threading into dark hair and stopping the embarrassing string of praise. 

“This,” Alec whispered between kisses. “is what I was trying to tell you, you asshole.”

“I think it was worth the wait,” Magnus teased, reaching a hand up to rest along Alec’s face. 

“Easy for you to say,” Alec mumbled. Sure he was tripping over his words but he was so relieved to have finally gotten them out. “And just so you know, about that other thing and it’s okay if you changed your mind but…” 

“I can guarantee I haven’t,” Magnus pressed a gentle kiss to Alec’s still-flushed cheek.

“I want to stay.”

—

The next morning (long before sunrise) Alec woke up with an arm under his neck, another hand gentle along his hip, and he couldn’t fight the smile and the warm fluttery feeling of knowing that sometimes those perfect, perfect nights don’t have to end.

He closed his eyes again, deciding that just this once he could wait for the sun; He wasn’t in a rush to return to the institute anyway. The missions, his minimalist (if slightly utilitarian) bedroom, those prying questions from his sister, and, oh god, that look and that wink from his Parabatai — they could all wait.


End file.
